Shoot me down
by lockdownwatz
Summary: Violence, fear, and pain are all he's known. Can truth, goodness and love save him? (I don't know I'm sort of crap on summaries sorry) very angst-y/angry/hurt, but there will be humor eventually. SherlockXJohn and two oc's
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, first fic... and probably shows. Sorry about the very dark beginning here. But do try and give me a chance I swear there will be humor and goodness too. If you can't handle actual pain (mentions of beatings/rape/degradition) umm.. this most likely won't be for you. I would turn back now... no seriously. It's gonna get really dark... so yeah. **

As they walked down the dark corridor, you could feel it in the air. That something was really wrong with this place.

Not just the evil that one could feasibly anticipate seeing as they were there to investigate a crime. But something truly wrong.

John looked askance at Sherlock and though he didn't even glance at John, he gave a small nod of his head. Yes, he felt it too.

They continued forward quietly, although Sherlock was 99.76% certain that there was nothing left here to be cautious about.

Maybe it was because of the warped feeling permeating the place.

It might have been viewed as strange that, knowing there was something potentially wrong here John still hadn't pulled his gun from his waistband. But honestly, though he had absolutely no compunction about drawing down on some criminal, and conceivably no remorse with killing said criminal should the situation warrant it, it was not the first thing he wanted to present to anyone. He was predominantly a healer, and coming across as vicious was just never what he wanted in life.

Instead John lead with a flash light that had three brightness settings on it and had it set on the lowest, and trained on the floor.

It was perhaps for this reason that he saw the pale flesh just at the edge of the ring of light off to his left, in what he had assumed to be safety cage. After all factories frequently had hazardous chemical containment areas, or power source containment areas, so cages in a factory, not outside of the norm.

Having visited so many such places in his time with Sherlock (not entirely Sherlock's fault, Mycroft had a nasty habit of taking John to plenty of unsavory places too) John was prepared to walk past yet another such cage.

It was likely that same healer in John that wouldn't present himself with violence first was what noticed anything human outside of normal vernacular.

Pausing John turned and glanced at Sherlock again then headed towards the cage, thinking to find yet another dead guard or the like.

Neither he, nor in all honestly Sherlock were expected the sight that greeted them.

_So review? I tried to spot all editing errors, but i know what it's supposed to see so don't always see them. Also I could you any thoughts on if this is ya know... crap._

_Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

Straps, no that wasn't the word.

These were no straps that either of the men had seen before.  
Metal was bolted around the wrists to smash them flush to the floor and allowed no room for even thinking of wriggling out of the "cuffs" though obviously these hands had tried to do just that, if the amount of dried blood around each cuff was anything to go by.

But the worst was the metal collar around the neck that kept the head flush to the floor also. Face down so this person was not even allowed to see anything coming at them.

Bolted was, well honestly it was hard to tell, perhaps a boy?  
A teen yes, but from the current lighting and positioning and dressing made a completely ambiguous teen at that.

But it was the fact the kid was literally bolted to the floor that most upset John.

Wordlessly handing Sherlock the flashlight he stepped over the greatly emaciated teen to check for life.

As soon as John touched a finger to the cold as a corpse skin, it became abundantly clear that this human was in fact alive.

Trashing as much as the bonds allowed the child tried to snap out of reach of the good doctor.

There was a relieved sort of sigh that slipped from John's lips.

"Easy, easy we are going to get you out of here." John whispered to the trashing child, for all the good it did, it merely thrashed harder. Again trying in total vain to pull it's hands through the cuffs. There were low horse grunt/moans from the teen, one of the most desperately sad things John had heard in a long time.

"Shh, it's alright. Just give us a mo' and we'll get you out of here." John soothed stroking gently the head of the poor creature at his feet.

Frighteningly this had the adverse effect of the child straining even harder, yanking it's head in a frantic attempt to keep from being touched caused it to sort of squeal grunt in pain as it's neck was quickly whip lashed back into position.

John quickly took his hands back. He wasn't entirely surprised at such frenzied fear, but it still bothered him that the child reacted that way to _him_.

"Sherlock is there anything…" John turned to looked at Sherlock for ideas on how to release the kid from these horrific restraints.  
Sherlock cast the light around to look for something to remove riveted bolts from the floor. Ah! There, off to his right was crowbar, not the best choice but the most readily at hand. He quickly grabbed it and thrust it at John.

John took it and applied himself to the removal of the first bolt from the cuff on the teen's right wrist. He heaved his entire strength into the removal of that damn bolt but the bar wasn't strong enough. The teen meanwhile became more adamant in his desire to be free, straining the muscle in it's arms so much that John feared tearing of muscles or dislocation of it's own shoulder.

"Shh, sh, honestly we'll get… you….. Ooout" John whispered as he strained against the bar. "Sherlock help."

Sherlock may be slender but he was mostly muscle and bone so when he was of a mind to use said muscle in the application of removing something he was always quite forceful.

Under the dual poor of both men the first rivet reluctantly popped free of the cement. The sudden freedom of the teens wrist was rather dangerous. First flailing out from the unexpected release it nearly clipped both men in the face, then made the determined path to it's imprisoned mate, pushing hysterically at the remaining cuff.

"A moment" Sherlock mumbled in as soothing a manner as he was capable of.

After diligent application to the second rivet, they were able to free both wrists for the teen. Immediately upon this freedom the teen moved as far from the two men as possible, which wasn't very, and attempted to scratch the damned collar from it's neck. It's grunting/straining sounding more frantic as it remained trapped.

"**John**" Sherlock's forceful utterance was a demand for the teens freedom. Somehow the mostly silent desperation was more than even Sherlock could bear.

"I'm trying Sher… shit."

"What. Is. It." Sherlock perfectly enunciated.

"Ther…. It's. Alright we need to remove the bolts from the floor which will allow him to sit up." John said quietly.

" . . What is the problem?"

John hesitated, he wasn't sure how to say this without throwing up. This man who had been in war, who had had to try and scoop parts of fallen soliders up so as to help them. Who had seen more horror than can every be accurately expressed or expelled, couldn't get over the maliciousness that had been inflicted on someone so small. He never could stand to see hurt children.

"I would have preferred to not use the crowbar near his face Sherlock. But the collar, I'm not sure I know how to remove it. Plus it's got spikes."

"John shut up. Get the damned collar off, or un-rivet it. Either way remove it!" Sherlock nearly yelled.

"I KNOW Sherlock, but I'm trying to not hurt him further."

"He's hurting either way, just get it off!" John was shocked to hear Sherlock's voice crack on the last.

"Help me." John simply said quietly.

This was even worse than the rivets on the wrists. There was no good positioning for removing the bolts. Either they had to position the bar so it was facing the teen and when the rivet was released the bar would likely fly up into the teens face, possibly harming him. Or facing away where the two men had no real leverage to work.

Eventually through much grunting on all parties and rocking back and forth of the bolt they were able to get it off and that's when everything seemed to explode.

_This is beginning to shape up here, hope people are still with me. Reviews?_

_Oh and if you'd like... maybe you'd like? I do have links to my tumblr that have pictures approximating the cuffs and collar (though really not exactly right... I so wish I could draw... can anyone draw?) lockdownwatz. tumblr. com (just remove the spaces)_


	3. Chapter 3

The teen flew out from between the men and slammed it's self against the wall which was as far back as it could go and then started gagging from the force of exertion it had just expelled in it's attempt to flee.

Sherlock and John were rather knocked askew from the violence with which the teen had flung it's self away. But they quickly turned at the creature they had just released. With upraised empty hands John started to approach the teen.

"I just want to see that collar." John murmured as he shuffled forwards on his knees.

The teen wheezed as it tried to sidle away, looking everywhere and nowhere at once. Not wanting anything to be near it.

"Easy, I just want to help you." John whispered creeping ever nearer the teen. When his hand was near to touch the collar the teen twisted and slammed back again, cracking it's head against the cement brick wall behind it. "Okay, it's okay. I'm really not going to hurt you."

"John…" Sherlock warned placing a restraining hand on John's shoulder.

Both men stopped and watched as the teen tried to smash it's self into the wall behind it. Clearly it didn't want anything to do with either men.

Everything seemed to slow to a stop. The teen's focus zeroed in on the men and seemed to assess them in seconds. Sherlock was rather surprised to experience something approaching to what he and Mycroft had perfected over the years. Clearly seeing everything and being able to interpret that info wasn't something most could do, but it seemed this teen could. All breathing seemed to freeze, John in hope of seeming less of a threat, Sherlock in shock and the teen in utter and complete abject fear.

The body, so badly undernourished, battered and weak started to slide to it's right the head twisting away in an attempt to break away but remaining unable to tear it's eyes away from these two unknown entities, especially those of Sherlock.

"Please" John breathed, he just wanted to help. But that word seemed to break the still everything had fallen into.

Again everything seemed to explode all at once.

The teen leapt from the wall, rather fumblingly and ran hell for leather for freedom, or at least as far away from anything and everything it could.

_so so far lots of views on this little bit of story of mine, which is AWESOME! but I'd really like some feed back... even if it's just 'quit wasting our time' that'd be good. I'm sort of jumping the gun on my self set time table... but i just so love seeing that view number that i'm giving to you early (but it's not much of a treat because this is so short)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry some of these are so short, I feel like I've written a ton, and then the next thing I know it's but a short paragraph. I'm really trying here though. (Honestly I am trying to stretch it out though. I think we things sort of settle they'll become proper chapter lengths)**

Running as fast as it was possible to do, the teen dodged factory equipment as if he had lived here all his life. Also he never made the classic mistake of most escapees, which is to look back, over one's shoulder to see if pursuers are gaining any ground.

It was as said pursuers were speeding after the teen that they heard it.

"Hold it!"

_'Freeze!"_

Several startled voices yelled some variant of this. What next followed was more worrisome.

"Shit! Some one stop him"

_"Jesus, stop him!"_

"**Get down! On the ground now!**"

John and Sherlock appeared on the scene of mass hysteria.

"Stop! He's just fright…" John was yelling as the arrived only to be rendered mute at the sight before them.

The teen who in all honesty didn't look as if he should be capable of walking on his own legs at the moment was kicking the collective police force ass.

Ducking under one arm that swung down to capture him, the teen twisted and brought both elbows down at the exact juncture of the attacker's neck and shoulder rendering him to his knees. Spinning off him to be met with an oncoming fist he easily blocked this to quickly counter with a cupped palm to the newest assailant's ear and a quickly placed right foot with a tripping, twisting motion sent him stumbling into the last downed cop.

He took three steps away when another cop approached and before the new man could even formulate an attack plan the teen sort of jump/kicked straight into the man's chest leaving him doubled over and wheezing and the teen just kept attempting to get away.

"**Stop**!" Sherlock bellowed, which had the astonishing effect of freezing all movement. John turned away from the astonishing sight of 7 cops on the floor and one bent over wheezing and the teen standing almost crouched ready no doubt to keep on with the amazing 'kung-fu' moves, and focused on Sherlock who had never before yelled with such authority in his life.

Sherlock wasn't looking at the downed cops, teen or John, but rather at a completely steady and utterly focused Lestrade. Lestrade who didn't even _own_ a gun, and typically wouldn't weld one unless he knew he was facing certain life and death situations, was standing still as a statue with a unlocked and cocked gun at this new creature.

John followed Sherlock's intense focus and cursed when he saw what had Sherlock so determined. "Christ" He muttered.

"Lestrade do try and be more clever than normal, and put that stupid piece of metal away. As you can see this child isn't the killer we were here searching for." Sherlock drawled, attempting to defuse the calamity that had fallen in mere seconds.

"That _child_, Sherlock just decommissioned 7 of my task force. If you think I'm just going to let that pass you must be on something." Lestrade growled without taking his eyes off the teen that was beginning to tremble from all the over stimulation, but that just made Lestrade's trigger finger twitchier.

"He's been trapped here for God knows how long Greg. He's freaked the fuck out. Of course he reacted with violence. Knowing you lot you drawled down on him as soon as he came running out." John said moving forwards to disarm him.

"**Stop**! Right there John. This isn't normal. That kid just…"

"Exactly Greg, that **KID**! He's freaked out, injured and not thinking clearly at all." John said reaching Greg's side and removing the gun from his clenched hands.

"What the hell Sherlock?" Greg said focusing on Sherlock now that the gun and been removed from him.

"You know as much as I Lestrade. This was not at all what I was expecting." Sherlock turned away from the completely incompetence of the Yard and turned to the teen who was beginning to look very, well haggard was as good a word as any.

"Don't run, I promise no one here is going to hurt you." Sherlock said hand extended to the teen.

"I don't think they can." Lestrade muttered. Sherlock's brows snapped together in annoyance at this but it relaxed immediately as his focus zeroed in on the teen.

"Let us help you." He tried again.

The teen twitched as if in denial or confusion. Eyes again flicking around taking in everything. From the astonished look on Lestrade's face as he stared in bafflement at Sherlock's soothing manner. John's kind eyes studying his wounds to the cops he had downed, all possible escape routes, at his own hands assessing the amount of blood on them, back to Sherlock in fractions of a second and twitched again. Head shaking in a negating manner, but not as if to say _'no'_ , more as a **'can't'**.

"It's alright. I promise." Sherlock all but crooned.

Foot sliding in a half step towards Sherlock, one of the downed guards stirred, jolting the teen again. He was off again like a shot.

"No" John moaned.

"He's running out of room." Sherlock tossed out as he took off after the young man again, John following quickly after.

Lestrade stared after it all in shock. Seven, **_7_** men downed in less than a minute. How does that even happen. Between being surprised to see practically a ghost running at the men, the men had freaked out prematurely certainly, but they were all keyed up and then, in the blink of an eye…

Bailey was down and Lestrade wasn't even certain how that one had happened, then he'd seen Sanders racked and dropped in no time, then in what seemed a second Owen's and Cray's heads were being cracked together in some 'action movie only' type of move and they were both out cold and Jenner stepped up to merely detain the freakishly fast teen and then he was flipped over the waif's shoulder.

Just…. How?

He couldn't even begin to process it.

But on top of all that, John and Sherlock come running onto the scene and of all the absurd things, it's Sherlock who was able to put a stop to everything. And suddenly Greg became aware that he had Michels' gun drawn on this 'kid' and he didn't even remember taking Michels' gun but suddenly he had it, and he was aiming more steadily than he ever had in his life at some freaking kid's chest.

Suddenly everything crashed in on Greg and he stumbled back a step. He'd aimed his gun at a fucking kid.

**What!?**

**AN: So i'm reworking this a bit, just a bit mind you, I might have to add some tags so people know what to look out for.. but I'm not certain at this point. **

**Anywho... reviews?**


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